


Smashing Chet Centaur

by wanderingaddict



Category: Xanth - Piers Anthony
Genre: Anal, Centaur, Fingering, M/M, Ogre, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-27
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 04:51:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9476513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingaddict/pseuds/wanderingaddict
Summary: Your typical Xanthian story about a young centaur and his half-ogre friend.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you reading this “just ‘cause” or don’t know anything about the land of Xanth, here’s a little (little!) fill-in for ya: The Xanth novels are basically about a kid-ish fantasy land, where men are dashing and women are gorgeous and every guy gets the girl and every girl gets a prince in the end. It’s built on stupid puns and magic, so there are a lot of groans and cutesy-stuff. Crossbred creatures are plentiful and everyone has some sort of magic talent that only they can do.
> 
> Anywho, fans of the series should pick up quickly, and people new to it shouldn’t be at all overwhelmed.

Chet Centaur, son of Chester and Cherrie Centaur, brother to Chem, friend to Prince Dor and Princess Irene, handsome young stallion and participant of many an adventure, not the least of which included him and the half-ogre, Smash, saving the lives of King Trent and Queen Iris, was... well, for lack of a better word, in a bit of a huff. 

He trotted through the relatively civilized forest that surrounded Castle Roogna, equally torn between venturing out into the more dangerous environs and sticking to the safety of the castle's enchanted orchard. It was less of a matter of whether he was afraid, and more of a matter of him suspecting his baser urges would get a hold of him and... well he didn't want the reputation for fighting that his ornery father had. The peace of the cultivated lands of the humans didn't appeal much either. Here, on the border, the flora and fauna found this far out from the castle were of a wilder variety than those found in the nearby orchards. Punwheels spun in nooks and crannies, wild butterflies (which were good on toast) fluttered about a field of tiger lilies, occasionally getting snarled at whenever they tickled a whisker or two. There were plenty of pie-trees, should he get hungry, and a grove of painful-looking dentist-trees, but he passed them all by, uninterested even in the tiny snap dragons that hissed and fanned tiny flames at his hooves when he wandered through their field. All of the greater dangers had long ago been driven off by the humans inhabiting the lands, and most of what was left could hardly be considered a nuisance, so the centaur was able to move through the woods with absent-minded ease.

Which was equal parts welcome and frustrating; welcome in that he could readily devote his considerable centaurian intellect to the Problem that was plaguing him, and frustrating because he had gone on his walk precisely _because_ he simply wanted to get away from the Problem entirely. Problems had a nasty habit of plaguing the thoughts once found, however, and even the clear blue sky on this sunny day couldn’t drive it away.

The worst part was that he wasn’t even quite sure he _had_ a Problem. There was nothing wrong with him, physically. He was hale, and hearty. He had a handsome face, and his hair and hide were a rich, chestnut brown. His tail was long and flowing, and his rump always drew admiring glances from the fillies in the village. Intellectually, he was on par with all but the wisest centaur sages, and certainly smarter than any mere human, so that wasn’t it. There was the issue of his magic talent - or his ‘obscenity,’ as his talent-less mother would call it - and the stigma of having a magic talent hardly ever came up in the centaur village! Certainly not with their proximity to the powerful human magicians living in Castle Roogna.

It couldn't even be his talent itself... it wasn't powerful enough to get a mind of its own (as Magician Bink's was known to do). Shrinking boulders into pebbles worked when he was out on adventure; it was rather harder to find uses for when he was just hanging bout home. 

In short, he was a perfectly normal - albeit rather handsome, young centaur - and the life he lived beside Castle Roogna was peaceful and idyllic and happy. Logically, he should have  _nothing_ to complain about.

Still, he couldn’t help but kick a rockwith his right hoof in frustration. It just seemed like there was this… hole… inside him, that… that he didn’t quite know how to fill. Or even approach, for that matter.

Chet sighed. It would probably help if he had someone to talk to about it, he thought, but he couldn’t think of a single person who would actually understand. Any centaur friends would just think him strange, and his vague dissatisfaction was a little too existential for his ogre friend, Smash. That wasn’t to say that Chet didn’t admire him - quite the opposite in fact, the ogre was one of his closest friends - but, being an ogre, Smash was just a little more adept at using his brawn than his brain.

His friend, Prince Dor was pretty intelligent, however. For a human. But Dor was _always_ with Princess Irene now, and if he told Dor, Irene would hear, and if Irene heard, she’d tell his sister, and if _Chem_ heard… well. He’d be hard-pressed to avoid some rather personal and awkward questions, and though he knew she’d only be trying to help, there were some conversations he just did not want to have with his little sister.

Again he sighed, a little more despondently this time, barely looking up from his hooves just in time to see something that could have upset his day.

A horned toad sat square in the middle of his path, sunning itself. Chet eyed it warily, keeping a careful distance between him and the amphibian. It wasn’t particularly dangerous- its horns were hardly more than little nubs, after all. It was the side affects of contact that he wanted to avoid.

He cast about for some alternate path, but the thick shrubs to either side prevented any alternative route. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a satyr with him - who already had horns, so they couldn’t get horned, and weren’t particularly affected by the other side effects - and the amphibians had hides like stone, so simply driving it away from afar was out of the question. That meant that his only options were to either double back the way he came or squeeze around it, and doubling back seemed perilously close to just going back home. There was something stubborn and pointlessly mulish about it, but - as anyone who’d ever met his father would angrily point out - there was probably a lot of mule in his ancestry somewhere.

So he set his hooves and stubbornly started forward, deliberately making enough noise that he wouldn’t startle the creature. The toad turned to eye him at his loud hoof-clops, but seemed otherwise unperturbed.

That was good. Maybe he could get by with just stepping right over it.

Feeling confident, now that he had gotten a measure of the horned toad’s disposition, Chet strode forward. There was a moment of tension when his first hoof struck the ground next to the toad, but even though it just continued to give him a placid stare, the stallion couldn’t help but hold his breath as he marched over it. Ears straining, every muscle poised for flight at the slightest hint of movement from the toad, the centaur silently prayed that the horny toad would not decide to jump. He’d seen what happened to those who got even a slight brush of the toad’s oil on their skin. Though the effects were temporary, they weren’t something he was keen on experiencing himself. He thought he was in the clear once his hindquarters were safely past it, but then he felt something splat against his balls.

Chet practically leapt out of his skin, jumping forward and kicking the air with his hind legs before wildly spinning around to see what had struck him in such a private area.

The toad, however, was in the exact same place, its head cocked slightly as though it had marked the centaur as someone jumpy and foolish. Chet flushed, took a few cautious steps back, and then- in an amazing display of dexterity- twisted back down along his flank in order to reach his genitals.

A cursory glance didn’t show anything amiss. His sheath was the same as ever, and the full, dark orbs that hung between his hind legs didn’t seem any different. Chet stretched all the way out, his arms just long enough to reach the fleshy sac. He rolled his testicles between his fingers, and though he could feel his organ swell in his dark-brown sheath, it wasn’t with the rush or fervor normally associated with a brush of a horned toad. Still, he wasn’t satisfied until he had rubbed his hand over every inch of his heavy sac, searching for any hint of wetness. The thorough search left him with a swollen erection peeking out of his sheath, but he figured that was a small price to pay for not having any of the toad’s oil on him.

He straightened, exhaling sharply. Had the frog really touched him? He ran a hand through his hair, and found no surprise bumps on his head, so he hadn’t gotten horn-ed, and he wasn’t feeling particularly horn-ey, so maybe his luck had held out. He glanced at it one last time, but the toad seemed to have dismissed him entirely, simply lounging in its patch of sun with the customary amphibian scowl.

Mildly disconcerted, Chet put the toad out of his mind and continued down the path. The sky was still clear, and it appeared his head was starting to follow suit. He couldn’t completely shake his vague sense of malcontent, but at least it had been temporarily suppressed. On his right, a harvest-ready peppermint plant beckoned enticingly. Chet normally wasn’t one for sweets, but today he was willing to make an exception. There was a particularly succulent mint that looked delicious. He snapped it from its branch and popped the round candy into his mouth.

He crunched once and quickly spat it out. Yuck! It wasn’t a peppermint bush! It was a punish-mint! Chet hastily pulled back from the plant, trying, in vain, to rid the soapy taste from his mouth. Fortunately, he spotted some ripe milkweed pods in a ditch on the other side of the path, and guzzled a few to get the taste out. Chet sent a dark glare at the sweet-looking punish-mint plant. That was the problem with punish-mints. They often didn’t look nearly as bad as they actually were.

The centaur snatched one last milkweed pod and continued on down the trail, deciding that he would wait till he got back to the centaur village before eating. It seemed like a fine decision anyways, as there appeared to be a surprising lack of food-growing plants in the area.

There were plenty of flowers, though. Delicate lady-slippers, freshly budded, that would someday make a fine pair of shoes for a fashionable woman, had just sprouted under a bunch of date trees, which were always good for making calendars. Beyond them, a small field of two-lips made such obscene kissing and sucking noises that - by the time he’d passed through - the stallion was red-faced and sweaty, and his blood flowing to his loins.

Perhaps he’d gotten clipped by the toad after all, he thought, wiggling his hindquarters in a vague effort to relieve the swelling he felt in his sheath. It didn’t seem to help.

Chet stomped a hoof in frustration, studiously trying to ignore the licentious sounds coming from the two-lip field behind him. Goodness, where had the normally placid flowers even learned such foul behavior? Inappropriate thoughts crossed his mind. Mostly bits of ribald phrases he’d overheard from the castle guards from time to time. It was common to hear the human men joke about the ways they found to relieve their own tension. Had one of the more adventurous human men in the area decided to relieve himself with the two-lips instead of a woman?

The centaur paused at that thought, and blushed so deep that his already red face turned a slight shade of blue, but now he couldn’t shake the image from his head! The two-lips, which were little more than plump-lipped mouths on stems, would actually be _perfect_ for…

The fat head of the stallion’s cock popped out of his sheath, and he nearly surged to fully erect at the feel. It was only through sheer willpower, and the mortifying thought of getting caught, that he didn’t plunge into the field of lascivious mouths right then and there.

Instead, Chet forced himself into a gallop in an effort to let out some of the steam heating his veins. He pounded down the trail, his heavy hooves kicking up bits of grass and dirt. Trees blurred past him as he leapt over fallen logs and babbling brooks without missing a beat. The brooks called out to him, but he ignored their greetings, causing them to become sullen and moody for a few moments before they cheered back up and started babbling again.

Exhilarated by his run, the stallion didn’t pause for anything, not even when he rudely bounded over a group of ladybugs and gentlemanbugs having tea in the middle of the trail. They flew up, politely shaking their fists at his back, but Chet was already disappearing into the trees on the far side of their glade. He didn’t stop galloping until his back glistened with sweat and he’d almost reached the edge of the Castle’s cultivated lands.

To his surprise, a great swath of ruined trees cut across the path, where some massive beast had simply pushed its way through the dense jungle. Curious as to what could have caused such destruction so near to the civilized lands of Castle Roogna, Chet picked his way over the broken trees, heading in the direction they seemed to have been pushed down. The fact that there was no scent of smoke and no trace of fire reassured him that it probably hadn’t been a dragon, and the way the trees were merely bent down more often than broken made it clear that the monster that had done this hadn’t been on a rampage.

From what he could tell, whatever it was - one of the big sphinxes, perhaps - had simply been out for a walk, and the trees had been unfortunate enough to get in its way. Chet vaguely hoped that - if it had been a sphinx - he still had a chance to catch up to it. He’d always been impressed by the leonine monsters, both in terms of their physical stature and their intellect. After all, they were one of the few creatures that could rival the intelligence of a grown centaur.

Chet was still musing on sphinxes when he crested a low rise and caught sight of what had actually caused the forest wreckage; a lumbering ogre, one of the lowliest - yet mightiest - louts in the entire land of Xanth. Vaguely manlike - or as manlike as anything made of hoary, knotted muscle could get - and as phenomenally strong as they were terribly stupid, ogres were one of the most chaotic and volatile aspects of Xanth’s wilds. Their huge size and unbelievable strength made them capable of cowing dragons, and their love of a good fight meant that anything with any wit at all - be it man or monster - kept out of their way. At the same time, however, their stupidity made them manageable, to a certain degree. Ogres were notoriously easy to outwit, given that most of their brain had been turned into brawn.

Strangely, this ogre seemed to lack both the grime - and the stench - usually associated with their race…

With a start, he realized he knew the hulking brute. “Ho, Smash!” he called, waving when the figure looked up. Chet felt stupid - a rare occasion, for a centaur - for not recognizing his friend right away.

“Hi guy,” Smash replied as the centaur trotted up to him. Smash Ogre wasn’t truly an ogre - his mother was a human Curse Fiend who, from what Chet had heard, had struck Smash’s father, Crunch Ogre, with a devastating curse so strong that it had blown the brute completely off his feet. Crunch had been head over heels with the woman ever since, and had even - remarkably - managed to summon the stork with her.

Thus, Smash was in-truth only half-ogre, and it showed: he was smaller than a normal ogre his age, although he still towered over even a centaur’s height, and - while Chet would never admit it to Smash’s face, as he didn’t want to hurt the guy’s feelings - Smash just wasn’t as _ugly_ as most ogres. There was a certain asymmetrical ugliness in a true ogre’s face that made it beyond horrendous, and Smash’s features were just slightly too handsome to reach that point.

But Chet would never say that directly to Smash unless the ogre asked him to (and that wasn’t likely, as ogres weren’t exactly prone to self-reflection). They had been best friends, growing up, along with the human, Prince Dor, and had gone on too many adventures together for the centaur to so carelessly insult him by mentioning it.

His ogre-friend was seated on a moss-covered boulder, and Chet was mildly amused to note that the fine clothes Queen Iris insisted Smash wear while he was at court were already torn to shreds. The massive tunic covering Smash’s chest didn’t even reach his furry abs, and the pants- well. A bit of the waist still hung about his hips, and what was left of a leg clung to the ogre’s thigh, but beyond that, they covered very little.

Very, very little. Chet’s eyes lingered on the heavy organ that dangled between his friend’s legs. Most centaurs generally considered the human’s sense of propriety and their preoccupation with covering up their bodies a mere - and frankly silly - foible of their race, but in Smash’s case, he could understand why the Queen insisted the ogre wear proper clothes, even if they rarely lasted more than a day. The ogre’s long shaft, with a bulbous head almost as thick as Chet’s wrist, was, plainly put, distracting. It was dark, and its foreskin barely covered the red glans tip. Chet had constantly been fascinated by the ogre’s penis, and was always hard-pressed not to simply take hold of it offhand. Prince Dor had shown him, once, a few years ago, how the foreskin retracted when a human man got hard, but the opportunity to see what happened with an ogre’s had never come up with Smash.

His fingers twitched, his tongue slipping out to wet his lips. Queen Iris was right to turn apoplectic whenever Smash showed up with his clothes torn off and his manhood hanging out. Even as a male centaur Chet could appreciate what the human women of Castle Roogna must feel when confronted with such a raw, powerful sight. Inside him, something twitched, some vague awareness that he couldn’t quite place, something so strong that it made him bite back a little moan.

Then he jerked back to awareness, suddenly realizing that Smash was staring at him expectantly, oblivious to the centaur’s thoughts.

“Wh- What are you doing out here?” Chet asked, fumbling a little as his face started to heat. There really was something wrong with him today. He didn’t normally have such poor control! His thoughts briefly strayed back to the strange incident with the horned toad earlier, but he was distracted by Smash’s reply.

The ogre exhaled heavily. “Me lucky fella, date with Pustuella,” he said, though with much less exuberance than Chet would have normally expected at such news.

“Goodness,” the centaur said, surprised, but happy for his friend. Females were rarely interested in Smash - though Chet could hardly imagine why any girl would ever turn down such a prime specimen of masculine virility - and it was good to hear that his friend’s dry spell was finally ending. He grinned. “That is some extraordinary luck indeed. I’ve heard that she has some very specific criteria for choosing a man.”

Smash didn’t quite understand all the words that the centaur used, but it sounded right enough so he just nodded. His face was still tense, however, and Chet couldn’t blame him. To say that Pustuella had eclectic tastes was an understatement, for her tastes were almost as erratic and eccentric as the girl herself. She was the daughter of a hideous Cyclops mother and a handsome three-eyed man, so depending on how you looked at it, she was either a pretty Cyclops with an extra eye, or an ugly, hulking human. And that wasn’t even starting in on her talent of juxtaposition. Pustuella liked only the most impossible things, like rocks what were pillow-soft, or white oranges and cold hotdogs.

These were only the things Chet had heard her suitors complain about in passing, of course. Most of them mystified him, as they couldn’t possibly exist - not in Xanth, at any rate. Not to mention terribly perplexing. How could one make a hotdog cold? Sure, one could put out the hound’s fiery coat with water (no doubt getting bitten in the process), but even then it would simply be a wet hotdog, not a cold one. Their heat was internal, so the hotdog would just steam for a while before combusting again. It wouldn’t actually be cold-cold.

But she was the only young, ogre-sized female in the area, so she had plenty of admirers despite her strange flights of fancy. And, as an _eager_ , ogre-sized female, she had developed quite the reputation of being a maneater, although none of the men - or monsters - who had dated her seemed to mind that part too much. Perhaps this was one of the rare cases where it was meant in more of a figurative sense, rather than a literal one.

She also lived a ways to the east, in the opposite direction, and here his friend was sitting alone in the woods, looking adorably morose.

Normally Chet wasn’t one to pry, and would never dream of intruding on another’s private thoughts, but his brutish friend looked like he was in dire need of help. Smash’s entire face was scrunched up in an awful frown, and bits of sweat still shone on his forehead, a clear sign that he’d been trying to think. And that was something ogres did only during the most dire of circumstances.

Settling close, Chet gave the ogre a knowing look. “So I’ve heard that she’s a ready girl, Smash. And that makes me wonder what you’re doing out here all by yourself.”

Smash remained silent for a long, long moment, his mouth twisted into a big, ugly frown. Though unspoken, the depth of the ogre’s distress became even more apparent to Chet when the monstrous brute glanced off to the side, not even meeting the centaur’s eyes. “Me fear she sneer,” Smash rumbled finally.

For a moment, Chet could only stare at the ogre’s forlorn face, hardly able to even comprehend the idea of an ogre afflicted with self-doubt.

“Sneer? At you?” Chet scoffed, incredulous. “Smash, you’re a prime ogre specimen! Look at the size of these muscles,” he exclaimed, his left hand gripping one of Smash’s hard biceps, the other massaging the underside of the ogre’s coarse pectorals. His blood quickened, his heart pounding against his breast as he recklessly continued to stroke both hands over the ogre’s chest. Then he glanced down. For less than a third of a second, all the thoughts in the world passed through his head before he boldly reached out. “Not to mention this penis!” Chet took hold of the huge python that dangled between the ogre’s legs. It jerked, and then started to swell at his touch. “It must be nearly as long as my arm when it’s erect!” he proclaimed, giving the organ a few hard tugs.

Smash grunted in surprise at the centaur’s brazen touch, but still he spread his legs wider, encouraged by the centaur’s praise. “Great length, great strength,” he said with a chuckle, straightening and curling his right arm to show the proof.

Chet laughed. “And he has a sense of humor too!” He gave his friend’s penis a few more tugs - fascinated by the thick, fleshy feel of the ogre’s rod, and mesmerized by the way its foreskin slid so easily across its flared head. Between his hind legs, he felt his own rod - still a bit full from his examination of it before - eagerly mimic his friend’s swelling response. The centaur braced his free hand against Smash’s chest and forcibly tightened his grip.

Hearing a sharp change in the ogre’s breath, Chet suddenly realized that he’d spent the last few moments silently playing with Smash’s enormous shaft. His cheeks a little red, the centaur reluctantly let go of his friend’s erection, though his hands didn’t stray far from Smash’s hugely corded thighs.

“So why do you think that Pustuella would sneer at you?” he asked quizzically.

Smash refused to speak for a long moment, studiously avoiding Chet’s gaze. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and furtive. In fact, it was the closest the centaur had ever heard his friend come to a whisper. “Never had chance to… do jungle dance,” Smash muttered, his face heating to the point that it steamed.

Surprised, Chet glanced from his friend’s huge, straining cock - wide enough to satisfy any female, and long enough to more than plumb her depths - to the ogre’s rigid, hair-covered pecs and then back that enormous rod. “Never?” he asked, a little incredulous. “Not even once?”

The monstrous brute just shook his head. Well… huh.

Taken aback, Chet needed a moment to order his thoughts. Sure, he’d known that the ogre didn’t exactly have a filly - or whatever the ogre equivalent was - waiting for him every night, but he had thought that his friend had at least gotten _something_! Pleasant thoughts of the pretty fillies he’d mounted over the last few years flitted through his head, and he nearly wept for his friend. To think that Smash hadn’t ever even gotten a chance to use his massive cock! The centaur shook his head at the idea of such terrible waste. Smash was an ogre just coming into his prime, and a specimen at the peak of masculine virility. Granted, the ogre wouldn’t be considered anywhere near handsome by human standards, but Chet had always thought that Smash’s looks held a certain unconventional appeal.

Which, coupled with a body carved into churning muscle by some of the wildest, deadliest parts of Xanth, and firsthand experience with the ogre’s near limitless stamina and strength, Chet was hard-pressed not to fall for the ogre himself. How any of the female humanoids - or even some of the female monsters, for that matter! - could resist the ogre’s primal charisma was beyond him.

It was Smash’s admission of not having known intercourse at all that really pulled at Chet’s heart, however. The feel of a tight filly was nothing short of bliss, and his own prodigious size ensured that almost every centaur girl _he’d_ mounted had gasped and shivered around his length.

He’d always wondered what it was like for those pretty fillies to be stretched like that. They usually danced about breathlessly whenever he’d mounted them, rosy-cheeked with giddy smiles, but that was nothing compared to the way their sweet, velvety tunnels sucked at his rod with such warmth, such moist desperation. Chet’s lips parted as he relived the memories, and - staring at his friend’s heavy cock - he couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like for a filly to be on the receiving end of that. She’d probably stiffen, straining around the thick rod, long enough to make even a centaur male jealous, and tremble a bit before biting her lip and resolutely… backing up the rest of the way…

The feel of his own penis, already swollen, popping its head out of his sheath brought him back to awareness. He stamped a hoof, a bit restless. Unfortunately, the motion just made his manhood swell enough to slide out another inch.

“Well,” he breathed, trying to pick up where the conversation had left off while struggling to keep from stamping his hoof again, “Surely you’ve given it some thought, at least.”

The ogre huffed. “A lot of thought,” Smash joked with a particularly lewd leer, giving his prodigious rod a few meaningful tugs.

Chet laughed, sliding his hands under the ogre’s hairy fist to stroke the organ himself. “And you’ve at least done something along these lines, right?” he asked with a wicked grin, leaning forward to sink his teeth into one of Smash’s big nipples.

The ogre’s erection spasmed in his hand, and Chet tightened his grip, forcefully stroking the entire length of the shaft. Some small part of him was screaming in terror at his incredible audacity, but before he could give his actions a second thought he was gnashing his teeth on the ogre’s nipple.

“Twice, thrice,” his friend grunted tightly, a blush staining his cheeks, though that didn’t stop him from hooking an encouraging arm around Chet’s shoulders and rolling his hips in a wordless plea for more. The centaur willingly obliged, gripping Smash’s fat rod so tight that his fingers sank into its flesh, and fiercely stroking from base to tip and back again.

He continued to gnaw on the ogre’s rubbery nipple as he stroked, titillated by the scent of sweat and feel of chest hair against his cheek, as well as the huge, warm arm about his shoulders. So absorbed was he in the experience that only a surprise wave of warm pre-ejaculate drooling over his stroking fingers was able to shock him out of it. He pulled himself away from Smash’s nipple, the taste of the ogre’s sweat in his mouth, to stare in bewilderment at the thick stream of semen that had surged from his friend’s straining shaft. He rolled his fingers through it for a mindless moment, idly using the semen as a lubricant for the red, swollen tip.

Chet swallowed, trying to steady himself. “So just be a little confident and she won’t know the difference!” he managed to say, after collecting a little self-restraint and tearing his wet hands away from the ogre’s manhood. A flaw presented itself then.

“Unless, she actually does know that you’ve never…?” he asked, reach out to give a single meaningful tug on his friend’s shaft. His hand lingered near its head.

Smash just nodded, looking all sorts of guilty and glum. “I see,” Chet said, the fingers of his free hand dancing over the sensitive tip of the ogre’s cock. Each light tap made the veined rod bounce and twitch.

“She say if me no practice, like sitting on cactus,” the ogre explained, his craggy lips twisting into a frown, even as he leaned back and insistently thrust his now-slippery shaft back into the centaur’s hand.

A frown forced its way onto Chet’s own face. “I‘d have thought an ogress would love that!” he said, almost absentmindedly tightening his grip.

The ogre gave an exasperated sigh. “Smash agree with he!” he growled, forcefully clutching the centaur to his sweaty chest in frustration. Chet fumbled for support, inadvertently giving Smash’s erection a full, hard pump that made the ogre momentarily forget his irritation.

But Chet had already realized the mistake Smash had made- that they had both made. Pustuella wasn’t an ogress! It wouldn’t be logical to assume she’d like _anything_ an ogress would. Just because she liked Smash hardly meant she was also into romantic punches and dinners of raw griffon and ironwood bark. The centaur tried explaining the flaw in their reasoning to Smash, but it was only after Chet pried his hand away from the ogre’s monstrous manhood that it seemed he understood.

That still didn’t explain why such a girl would choose Smash, however. While Chet himself could appreciate the brute, for some reason most females were turned off by Smash’s extreme masculinity and oafish ways. Pustuella, apparently, didn’t mind that, but for some reason had drawn the line at rough handling during sex. But if she didn’t want to be treated like an ogre, why would she date one?

A lightbulb flashed above Chet’s head, lighting the glade. “It must be related to her nature! To like improbable contrasts!” he exclaimed.

The ogre just stared at him for a moment and then blinked.

“Well, you _are_ a big, stupid brute, Smash,” Chet said, causing the ogre to beam with pride, “So you having a gentle, skillful touch during intercourse would be a perfect example of juxtaposition.”

Not quite sure he understood everything what his friend was trying to explain - though the more human part of him seemed to recognize it as true - Smash nodded enthusiastically, mostly just glad that he didn’t have to struggle with all that thinking anymore. Meanwhile, it had slowly dawned on Chet that his poor friend had been chosen by one of the most convoluted women he’d ever met. The centaur smacked his hand against the ogre’s hard chest. “No wonder you’re having so much trouble, Smash! This girl has some eclectic tastes indeed.”

Another thought struck Chet, and he settled back, tapping a wet finger against his chin. “But how in the world does she expect you to practice?” he asked.

Smash nodded glumly. “Such distress, no ogress,” he said, sounding mournful. That must have been why the ogre had been all alone out in the woods. There was no way for him to get any help with his problem. There weren’t any large enough females around for him to practice intercourse!

Well, that wasn’t _quite_ accurate, Chet amended. There were no female _humanoid_ monsters; he knew there was a very… friendly… dragoness a ways to the north, and he was pretty sure at least one of the moat monsters at the Castle was female, but - as common as crossbreeding was in Xanth - the thought of coupling his unfortunate friend with one of the more _monstrous_ monsters just because he couldn’t get a humanoid girl… just didn’t sit right with him.

He pulled himself from that train of thought, and realized Smash was not-quite-looking at him, from out of the corner of one eye. Expectantly, almost, as though he thought Chet was about to conjure some miraculous solution out of thin air.

The centaur’s jaw fell slack, for a moment, as he struggled to think of any half-decent proposal, but his mind was blank. He shrugged helplessly, saying, “I’m sorry, Smash. I… I don’t know what to do!”

The lonely flicker of hope in Smash’s eyes faded. The ogre nodded in resignation, having already anticipated a lack of proper fixes. His eyes dropped to the gorgeous, still pleasantly firm erection flopped back across his stomach. Smash idly forced it forward, only to have the powerful shaft snap back against his hard stomach with a slap. It really was a shame he’d never get a chance to actually use it. An atrociously sad sigh slipped past the ogre’s lips as his shoulders slumped.

Chet’s heart trembled. The morose defeat written across every inch of his friend’s face had to be one of the most depressing sights he’d ever seen. The centaur flicked his tail, lips pursing with thought as he studied his friend. Glum frowns simply did not suit the hulking brute. He tried to think of something to say to cheer the guy up, but nothing came to mind. His mouth opened, but hesitation made him pause. There was… maybe something he… he could do for his friend. A centaur filly was out of the question - the girls in his village were vehemently opposed to bearing crossbreeds and refused to even chance it. But... only a _centaur_ would be large enough…

“Smash, I hate seeing you look so down!” Chet finally exclaimed. Without thinking, the niggling thought hidden in the depths of his mind slipped out. “What if I helped you?”

Smash’s huge, heavy brow furrowed, and he looked at the centaur as if he were daft. “Help Smash how? Not ogress cow!”

“Well, this is all just because you doubt your finesse, right?” Chet asked, after a fumbling moment. He stalled, trying to order his thoughts. What in the world had he just let slip from his mouth! Smash’s muscular arms suddenly seemed much larger, his body so much more prominent in Chet’s mind that the centaur could hardly speak for fear that he’d simply end up gnawing at his friend’s jaw.

But the ogre was nodding, already taken with this faint glimmer of hope. Chet would have to be a monster to back out now.

“And,” he stuttered, his cheeks reddening, “And there are no other ogresses to practice it with. And you’re way too monstrous for any human girl.” Smash perked up a bit at the compliment, grinning and giving the arm around the centaur’s waist a hard squeeze. The ogre’s strength was such that Chet’s whole body swayed into him, making the centaur’s burgeoning erection sway in the air.

His cheeks terribly red, the young stallion tried to distract himself by steadying his human half against Smash’s chest. “So I suppose you could practice with me. You know, as if I was Pustuella,” he continued, “That way I can tell you how you’re doing.”

“Chet a freak, see my technique,” Smash teased, a leering smirk on his face. Chet laughed aloud, and pinched one of the huge nipples on the ogre’s hairy chest in revenge. Smash responded with a hard thumbing of Chet’s own pecs with his free hand, causing the centaur to up the ante with a hard-fisted pump of Smash’s enormous rod. That settled Smash back into complacence, though after only about three or four hard tugs the ogre pulled his manhood from Chet’s grasp and started slapping the wet head against the centaur’s bare navel.

“Okay, okay! You win!” Chet yelled, his laughter joining Smash’s muffled chortle. The ogre slapped his meaty shaft against the centaur’s skin one last time. They sat there for a moment, watching it slowly drool semen across Chet’s toned abs.

Then he remembered he’d been interrupted. “But, it would be no different from what the satyrs do,” Chet reasoned, continuing his previous train of thought. “I don’t see why you and I cannot.” It made perfect sense in his head. In fact, was actually nothing short of brilliant! He was both willing and able to help his friend, and he had the mass, at least, to conceptually be somewhat similar to Pustuella, and if it helped his friend actually lose his virginity, then how could Chet possibly say no? Satyrs did much more… rambunctious… things for even less reason. This was far superior, even, because it basically gave Smash a chance to practice without risk of public embarrassment. Chet would gladly have taken a bit of practice with one of his male friends before his first attempt at wooing a filly!

But Smash still seemed a little unsure. “Smash and Chet get randy? Act like dandies?” the ogre asked, his free hand make a fey little wave.

A laughing huff forced itself from the centaur’s mouth. The effeminate curl in the ogre’s limp wrist was a gesture he’d never thought the hulking brute was even able to make. Chet put a calming hand on one of his friend’s bulging biceps. “Not like dandies, no. But randy, yes,” the centaur laughed, running that same hand down Smash’s furry chest to grasp the ogre’s still-burgeoning manhood. He slid the clump of foreskin around the head all the way back, mesmerized by how the motion made his friend’s taut stomach clench. When he tightened his grip, the massive shaft merely swelled in response, to the point that there was a full six-inch gap between his fingers.

Saliva pooled over his tongue. The ogre’s hand on his back was warm and inviting, tacitly encouraging Chet to return to the hard, fierce, full-length pumps he’d given his friend’s shaft earlier. He tried his most winning smile. “It’s a way of practicing right? And that’s what matters right now.”

“Too true,” the ogre agreed. He seemed to think for a moment, staring at the hand that grasped his monstrous cock, before he looked up and gave his friend a surprisingly wicked grin. “Okay dokey, let’s get pokey.”

Chet’s shaft slapped against his underside in response. “Alright,” he managed to say, a bit flustered. He hadn’t expected to be so affected by his own proposal! After a deep breath, he added, “Okay,” even though he didn’t have any idea of what they were going to do. “Um… I suppose you should try your opening move,” Chet mumbled, when nothing happened after a few minutes.

Smash just looked blank. The stallion’s cheeks reddened. “The one that lets her know you’re interested in intercourse,” he added as explanation. The ogre’s eyes sharpened with understanding, and he resolutely grasped the centaur’s shoulders, visibly prepared. But then he paused.

“What’s wrong?” Chet asked, eventually.

There seemed to be an air of uncertainty hovering about Smash’s head, and it was another minute before his friend said anything.

Full red colored the ogre’s cheeks. “Smash abashed,” his friend said shyly, not-quite meeting Chet’s eyes.

The chestnut-colored centaur felt his own cheeks heat in response. “Just… ah,” Chet mumbled, “Just try using your mouth.”

Smash hesitated for a very long moment, then sucked a deep breath and boldly grasped the centaur’s head with one hand and pressed his mouth to Chet’s. At first the feel of the ogre’s much larger mouth against his own human lips was a bit disconcerting, but then Smash’s large tongue invading his mouth made all four legs nearly buckle. The centaur nearly yelped in surprise, clasping both arms around the ogre’s broad shoulders for support even as he eagerly sucked the brute’s tongue deeper into his mouth. Chet was shocked at how good it felt to be bent back over Smash’s huge, hoary arm, to have such a surprisingly big tongue fill his mouth with ease. None of the pretty centaur fillies - and certainly none of the bold human girls - he’d kissed before had threatened to overpower his senses so quickly, or as easily as Smash was doing here. Chet got so lost in the feel of his pecs rubbing against the ogre’s hard chest, and the huge tongue in his mouth, that when Smash finally broke the kiss to gauge how he’d done he got nothing but glazed eyes and drool.

“You think it stink,” the ogre said, disappointed with himself.

Chet swayed to one side, dazed to the point of almost tipping over. He caught himself quickly, this time taking care to keep all four hooves firmly spread. “Not at all, Smash! You were great!” he said, a bit breathlessly even. He hadn’t expected his friend to come out with both arms swinging, to quote the ogre expression. A terrible miscalculation on his part, but now that he knew what Smash was capable of he couldn’t help but wonder what other surprises his friend had in store.

The stallion pressed his mouth back to Smash’s, and this time the ogre responded with eager confidence. With two tree-trunk arms around his shoulders, and Smash’s massive tongue nearly reaching his throat, Chet was lost in a sea of sweaty, virile brawn. There was only his mouth and Smash’s tongue, his hard pecs pressed against Smash’s hairy chest, and the insistent protrusion of the ogre’s leaking rod against his waist.

It wasn’t until his lungs burned for air that Chet finally found the strength to break free. His chest heaving, his mouth still millimeters away from his friend’s wet lips, Chet barely had the breath to say, “Show me what else you can do!”

The ogre nodded and, with a grin, stood, tromping to the centaur’s backside, his huge, erect cock leading the way. He braced one hand on Chet’s rump and slid the other down to grasp the centaur’s heavy sac. Warm feelings coursed through Chet’s body at the touch, and the roll of his friend’s hand from his sac to his shaft made the stallion’s hind legs jump in surprise. Chet twisted at the waist, staring incredulously as the curious ogre tugged on the centaur’s lengthy erection, even going so far as to bend it down with his free hand and watch it snap back up. The ogre seemed amused, at first, but his big fingers eventually returned to their exploration. Occasionally, they gently tugged at the fat sac hanging between Chet’s legs. The third time that happened, Smash just fondled them for a moment, staring. He seemed at a loss for what to do.

At Chet’s inquiring look, Smash grunted, “No hole.”

Ah. The stallion flushed all the way to his neck. Of course; the ogre needed to practice cunnilingus. Chet stamped a hoof, flicking his tail as he mulled his next idea over. After a few more minutes of a curious Smash idly sticking his fingers in the centaur’s sheath, Chet decided to give in.

“Here,” he said, lifting his tail and turning his hind end towards the ogre’s face. “We’ll just have to use this. Shouldn’t be too different, right?” Chet couldn’t believe he was actually suggesting this.

Reaching out, Smash put both of his big hands on either side of the centaur’s buttocks and spread them apart, peering in his ogrish way. He didn’t quite get what his friend was talking about, but once he saw the nervous twitch of the dark skin surrounding Chet’s tailhole he started to get a glimmer of a notion.

“Me act heinous to Chet’s anus?” he asked, his great brow furrowing. He cautiously tapped a finger against the outside of the centaur’s tight sphincter.

A trill ran up Chet’s spine. He - he hadn’t expected that! “Yeah,” he breathed, “It’s okay. For practice. Just… do to my anus what you would to Pustuella’s va- aaah!” Chet broke off, crying out in surprise as the ogre’s strong tongue forced its way between his cheeks. Apparently Smash already had his own ideas of what he was going to do.

The first tap of the ogre’s ham-finger against his anus had sent a curious thrill up Chet’s spine. It was nearly enough to prepare him for the brutal assault of Smash’s tongue, however. Thicker than that of any centaur - or human - man, and imbued with the ogre’s strength, Smash’s tongue slathered drool in places he’d never even known before. The sweeps across the outside of his anus alone were enough to make him jolt, but once it wedged an opening between the folds of his flesh Chet nearly leapt out of his skin. It was only by virtue of the fact that Smash had wrapped both arms under the centaur’s legs that he didn’t get an accidental hoof to the face.

Hauling the centaur’s bucking rear back into position, Smash repositioned his hands and attacked his friend’s anus with the typical straightforwardness of his kind. The centaur’s powerful legs bounced with each invading lick, but the ogre was strong enough that he paid it no mind. It was far more interesting to explore what he could do to make Chet clench tight enough to almost force out his tongue.

From what he could tell, what worked best was whenever he stroked the stallion’s rigid shaft. Intrigued, he shoved two fingers from the hand holding Chet in place into the centaur’s anus - as a reminder of where he’d left off - and dropped his mouth to the heavy sac that dangled between his friend’s legs. His tongue was able to roll both of them into his mouth easily enough, and the ogre was pleased to note the sudden clutch of heat around his fingers. Gripping Chet’s hard member actually encouraged the stallion to back up against the ogre’s face, but something seemed to be missing. He paused to study the drip from the centaur’s rod.

“Weak technique,” Smash mused, frowning.

Chet didn’t quite catch the ogre’s mutter. “What?” he asked, but Smash just shook his head. The ogre stood, pulling his fingers free - and accidentally slapping his erection on the centaur’s balls in process - and made to go around to Chet’s front and take his boulder-seat back. The chestnut stallion frowned, his rump feeling curiously empty. “Why are you stopping?”

Caught off-guard, the hairy ogre just stopped and gaped at him. “Smash keep going?” he asked, so surprised he didn’t even rhyme.

“I…” Chet’s cheeks reddened to a fiery hue. “I said you should do whatever you’d do to Pustuella, right?”

For a long moment, Smash did nothing but search his eyes. Then, a slight, mischievous grin twitched about the corners of his craggy lips and he turned, reaching out to slide one huge hand under Chet’s tail. His friend hesitated, casting a questioning glance back at the centaur’s face as his fingers lingered just over the surface of the hole between Chet’s buttocks. Chet nodded, biting his lip as he felt Smash dig his fingers in. Smash seemed intent on working them as deep as they could go, rocking and twisting them in unbearably constant motion. He even braced one arm on the centaur’s back - in part to keep the stallion from bucking - but also so that he could lean over to watch his fingers work.

“Tube needs lube,” the ogre grunted. Chet blinked, then laughed in realization. An ogress would be dripping wet by now. Smash was actually thinking with a clearer head than he!

He cast about for anything that could be of immediate use, and to his surprise, saw a bright-green snake crawling through the grass by his hoof. Chet grinned, and snatched the surprised serpent from the ground before it could escape. It wriggled desperately in his hand, the snake-oil coating it so thick that it almost squirmed free.

Even better. They would be needing all of it.

“Here, Smash,” he said, twisting around. “Use this.”

Smash took the snake, and with one twist of his hairy-knuckled hands, wrang the serpent dry. A curtain of snake-oil dribbled down the ogre’s stiff shaft, making the rigid flesh nearly glisten in the light. The ogre tossed the snake into some nearby grass, where it emerged looking a little worse for wear, but otherwise unharmed. It slithered away, hissing angrily. Worthless though its snake-oil may be, it still didn’t like giving it away for free.

With a thick sheen of oil now coating his cock, Smash was somewhat ready for the next bit of… practice. He wrapped Chet’s tail around one hand and paused for a moment, staring at the tight ring. It clenched nervously. The ogre’s mouth made a little moue, and he roughly slapped the head of his cock against it, making the centaur jump. Amused, Smash did it again, and again, until he accidentally pushed a little too hard and the head popped in. Suddenly, Chet understood why all the pretty fillies he’d mounted had squealed so when he’d entered them.

Smash’s enormous girth was stretching his anus far wider than Chet had even thought possible, but that was nothing compared to how painfully deep the ogre had managed to sink his solid length. Caught off-guard by the ogre’s playfulness, the stallion hadn’t anticipated being speared so quickly! He couldn’t even draw breath to scream; his entire body was paralyzed by the massive invader that threatened to split his equine half in two. Slowly though, slowly but surely, he felt parts of himself relax. First it was his throat, then his chest and shoulders, and finally his hips, though the size of the organ buried inside him brought tears to his eyes. He shuddered, something alien but… pleasurable working its way to his brain.

A long moment passed as he waited for the ogre to move, and then another, even longer one before he looked back and realized his friend was watching him, waiting for a sign that the centaur stallion was alright. Chet nodded, but right as Smash started to push in a bit further he felt the ogre’s length scrape across something that made his vision blur around the edges and his buttocks clench with near-crushing force. The ogre, stopped, but Chet was ready with encouragement.

“No, keep going,” he said, almost choking at the little shift. “I’m okay, Smash, I’m okay,” Chet breathed, more for his own benefit than anything else. He blew a couple of breaths through his cheeks, “Just - just give me a moment.”

The ogre hesitated, concern for his friend written across his misshapen face. He rocked his hips just slightly, drawing no more than a handful of inches out, only to feel the stallion convulse desperately. Though the quivers made his toes curl, Smash didn’t want to do anything that would hurt his friend. He cautiously slid his erection back into the centaur’s warm, honeyed depths, but it was no use. Even if he somehow missed the tremor in the flesh that wrapped about his rigid cock, his ears still caught the little whine that escaped from his friend’s mouth. “Smash stop?” he asked, biting his lip.

“No!” Chet cried out sharply, and with a bit more force than he’d meant to. Shuddering from the feel of his hindquarters being split in two, the centaur was hard-pressed to think clearly. It was difficult enough to keep from bucking as it was, he didn’t need to worry about reassuring the ogre too! After a deep breath - during which he all he could think about was the massive rod buried in his rump - he managed to finally twist his human half about. “No, don’t stop, Smash! This is incredible!” he breathed, staring in something close to awe at his hind end. The ogre’s hips were actually just a little bit wider than his rear, and the sight of the hulking brute hunched over his butt made him clench instinctively. He was never, ever going to forget the thrill that sight gave him.  

Feeling the eager ripple about his cock, Smash put two and two together and - for once in his life - came up with four. “Chet like my pike?” the ogre asked, a bit of color staining his cheeks.

“Hah!” Chet let loose a giddy laugh, forcefully bucking his hind end into the ogre’s hips. “Smash,” the centaur growled, squeezing the brute’s monstrous organ with his insides, “Your pike is as thick a fence post, and fit for an ogre twice your size!”

A craggy grin split Smash’s face, and Chet groaned when he felt the ogre’s long rod swell just a little bit more. It felt like it was nuzzling his throat! Even when buried in his guts Smash’s powerful cock still commanded all his attention. Pustuella had no idea what she was in for, Chet thought to himself, as the ogre tightened his grip on the stallion’s hindquarters and began the long, terribly slow process of sliding his gargantuan erection out.

Chet let his head loll backwards, unable to keep his thoughts straight when it felt like the ogre was taking half his insides out with him. The feel of the fat head spreading his anus from within roused him though, just in time to bear the solid push back in. Chet’s eyes widened, his whole body stiffening as the ogre buried himself to the hilt in one steady thrust.

“Oh, $@%#! **$@%#!** Smash!” the stallion swore, turning the air around him a bilious green. “Smash, your cock!” Chet stumbled, stomping his hooves against the ground in an attempt to keep from being overwhelmed. It wasn’t working. “Your cock is so _big_!” he gasped, his whole body rocking with the each thrust.

“Like rock, ogre cock,” Smash grunted, without slowing. The centaur’s bucking meant nothing to him. He used his ogre strength to simply hold his friend’s hindquarters in place, drawing a very surprised cry from Chet in the process. Smash was could tell the quivers that rang through Chet’s body were just as strong, however, so he kept on plowing himself as deeply into the stallion as he could. Chet twisted his human half around, but whatever he was going to say caught in his throat. He turned back, the image of Smash - his vest torn open, his hairy chest and hard pecs taught and straining - burned into his mind. Even when he closed his eyes, all he could see was the look on Smash’s face as he pounded mercilessly into the stallion’s sore-stretched hole.

But there was nothing Chet could do, other than clasp his hands in his hair and fight the urge to squeal when the ogre thrust _deep_. The hardy centaur could feel his legs start to buckle from a pleasure he hadn’t even dreamed was possible. Mounting a pretty filly in the village was one thing. What Smash was doing to him sailed far beyond that, into a realm of infinite rapture so raw that for a second Chet stopped breathing altogether. There was nothing, on that boundless horizon, save for the feel of the ogre’s swollen shaft splitting his rump in two.

Then, the most surprising thing that could possibly happen, did; he came.

A single, long string of cum erupted from of his cock, striking the underside of his stomach with such force that it practically bounced off. Two more strings followed close behind, his shaft slapping forcefully against his stomach because of it. Smash just kept hammering away, however, his enormous erection now ramrod straight and plunging into Chet with such force that the stallion was dangerously close to being driven forward with every thrust. He spread all four legs in response - planting his heavy hooves in the ground - and pushed backwards, inadvertently giving Smash an even better angle. Something almost bestial tore itself from Chet’s throat at the ogre’s next thrust; a primal, animalistic lust that made him twist and struggle to suck as much of the ogre’s rigid shaft into his body as he possibly could. And though it forced sharp cries between his teeth - and spurts of seed from his cock - a strange, feral glee made him revel in the stranglehold he forced on Smash’s swollen organ.

Filled with renewed vigor, Chet found himself matching his friend thrust for thrust. Stubborn grunts burst from their tightly clenched jaws whenever Smash drove himself particularly deep, but they had already reached the point where the centaur’s mulish obstinacy was butting heads with the ogre’s bullheaded resolve. This wasn’t going to end until one of them simply collapsed.

Finally, short of breath and covered in sweat, Smash slammed his hips into Chet - hard enough to lift his hooves off the ground - and held himself deep. Chet nearly reared in surprise at the first gush of the ogre’s release, but Smash’s strength was still more than enough to keep the stallion from leaping away. The second wave came with another sharp snap of the ogre’s hips, a thrust that nearly brought tears to the centaur’s eyes and set his insides spasming desperately about Smash’s monstrous cock. Chet was forced to endure five more equally long, terrible drives, each releasing another heavy load of cum into his depths. Nothing but stars flickered across his eyes, and there was the vague notion that his body was going to give out, but Chet could hardly think with the ogre managing to sink a little bit more of his gargantuan cock in each time, to the point that the centaur could feel his anus flush with the base of the brute’s wide shaft. Thankfully, after the last spurt of seed, Smash seemed content to simply hold still and idly run his hands over Chet’s sweaty flanks.

He pulled out of the centaur stallion, after a moment, letting his dick swing freely. A thick strand of semen connected the two of them for a brief second before it broke. Smash gave one last, cursory glance at the cum dripping his friend’s anus, and then looked down at his glistening cock. Already, it was starting to harden again.

Without his friend to support him, it was all Chet could do to keep his knees from buckling. The centaur stallion barely managed to take two steps forward before he sank to the ground, his whole body shaking. Aftershocks continued to rocket through him, however, scattering his thoughts. Parts of him he didn’t even know he’d had were wet and aching, and each involuntary clutch of his anus made him all the more acutely aware of the wave of ogre-seed that was leaking all the way down to his balls. Something akin to a tiny whimper escaped his throat. He was a wreck!

Eager though he was to hear whether or not he had been any good, Smash decided he should probably be polite and wait until his friend managed to collect himself. His rigid cock- still hungry for more attention- was able to provide a bit of distraction, but after the warm, slick, clutch of the stallion’s butt his hand was a poor substitute. It was nice to think about though. Smash gripped his thick shaft and gave it a few forceful tugs, shuddering as another gloppy wave of ogre-cum squirted out of his dick. Most of it landed in Chet’s handsome tail. The ogre cringed, hiding his hands behind his back, and hoped his friend hadn’t noticed.

Luckily for him, Chet was still a little out of sorts. Smash started playing with himself a little bit more, but, finally, he could wait no longer. “What say, bloke? Enjoy the poke?” he asked.

Chet blinked, and then laughed at the ogre’s seemingly innocuous choice of words. “Pustuella should be terrified of what’s coming her way tonight, Smash,” the centaur said twisting around to flash an exasperated grin. “I honestly cannot imagine why you ever had reason to doubt yourself in the first place. Were you just pretending, earlier, in order to make me feel sorry for you?” Chet teased. Then he felt a spasm rocket through his entire body, one powerful enough to force the wind from his chest.

“Smash,” Chet gasped staring incredulously at his hind end. “Just look at me! You know how hardy centaurs are, and I can’t even stand! I should think that’d tell you, plain as day, that there’s not a hole in this world you couldn’t turn inside out with that tree-trunk of a cock you have between your legs.”

Red colored the ogre’s face, and it heated so much that the fleas on Smash’s head started jumping off, complaining of hotfoot. The monstrous ogre seemed at a loss for words, though he was obviously very pleased with Chet’s praise. “Gee,” he huffed, embarrassed. He ducked his head, idly tugging on his hard, drooling erection for a moment before he simply grinned at Chet and squatted down by the stallion’s tail.

Smash put one hand on the centaur’s haunches. “Chet good friend, to lend rear end,” he said, casually guiding the fat head of his cock back to the centaur’s anus, where, before Chet could even draw a single breath, the ogre popped his prodigious rod back in.

It slid incredibly deep in one smooth, quick thrust, though at this angle it managed to strike the centaur’s prostate with almost bruising force. A yelp escaped from Chet’s startled lips, but before he could do anything else the squatting ogre pulled back and slammed himself home once more.

Shocks of painful pleasure practically seared the centaur’s spine, scattering his thoughts and leaving him incapable of little more than mindless arching his back even as his body struggled to rise in an instinctual effort to escape the ogre’s near-punishing thrusts. Smash just grunted, however, and forcibly pushed Chet’s hindquarters back to the ground with his indomitable ogre strength. The movement caused the centaur’s hips to splay apart - stretching his anus wide around the ogre’s elephantine girth - and inadvertently allowing Smash to slam so deep that his furry, coconut-sized balls slapped hard against Chet’s own fat, dark-colored sac.

The contact made both of them rear in surprise, but then Smash brought his strength to bear again and pounded into the stallion with such force that Chet practically squealed as another spray of semen started pulsing from his untouched cock. The noise of the ogre's sac slapping against the stallion's balls echoed through the glade, and if anything, only seemed to drive Smash on. The centaur’s spasming insides sucked at Smash’s shaft with such vicious ferocity that it took two long, strings of cum shooting from his erection for the ogre to realize that he was emptying his balls into the centaur’s depths. He buried himself to the hilt and held still, reveling in the clutching, sucking heat of Chet’s insides.

Shuddering, Smash suddenly pulled out, his sharp-veined erection pulsing weakly. It shot a rude, slimy trail across the centaur’s back.

“Smash late, time for date,” the ogre huffed, straightening. Chet took the moment to catch his breath and try to tamp down the surges of adrenaline and lust that had been reawoken. The ogre, however, just looked down at his angry, engorged shaft- with its leaking head- and frowned.

“Big wood.” Smash tried to force his steel rod downwards a couple times, but the monstrous organ simply kept snapping back up to slap against his stomach. In the end, he only succeeded in coating his furry abs with sloppy streams of ogre spunk.

He sighed and gave up. “Look good?” he asked Chet.

Chet took stock of his friend. The ogre was disheveled, red-faced and sweaty, and the vest he wore had nearly split open during his frenzied thrusts into the centaur’s butt. His cock, still half-erect and drooling profusely, was coated in a thick sheen of mucus and semen, and his chest dripping with sweat and sperm.

The centaur grinned. “She won’t be able to keep her hands off you,” he said, reaching out to firm up the ogre’s testicles.

Smash let out something close to an ogre-purr as Chet tugged on the nearly fist-sized orbs. The hairy sac tensed and pulled back, causing a gooey surge of seed to pour from Smash’s cock. It poured over Chet’s fingers in a warm, white wave, but the centaur merely used it to lather the ogre’s stiff rod.

Chet continued to pump the colossal, veiny shaft until Smash grunted and finally pulled away. “Gotta stop,” he grunted, gripping his angry erection with a calloused fist. “Too much slop,” he finished, as he milked another thick wave of ogre cum from his dick. The ogre made a face at the mess it left on his hand, and proceeded to wipe it off on what was left of his tunic.

Resisting the urge to simply plug the leaking head of Smash’s cock with his tongue, Chet reluctantly settled back on his haunches and gave the ogre a final once-over.

“I’ve never seen anyone look more ogrish than you, Smash,” the centaur said, causing Smash’s chest to swell with pride. “I’m sure you’ll do fantastic, Smash. Pustuella couldn’t be a luckier girl.”

A huge, giddy grin cracked across the ogre’s rough-hewn face, and the massive man swept Chet’s human portion into a huge, back-breaking hug.

“Chet so great,” the ogre said, in one of his rare, true non-rhymes. Chet oofed, feeling the ogre’s humungous cock leave a slimy smear across his chest, but then Smash released him and stomped off in the direction of Castle Roogna, although not using the path Chet had come by. Paths were unnecessary to an ogre. To them, it was just as easy to march through a jungle wall.

“Good luck, Smash!” Chet called to the ogre’s back. “I hope it goes well!”

He saw Smash’s huge shoulders pause, and the ogre turned and called back to him from between the crushed vegetation.

“If she a hater, we practice later?” he asked shyly.

Chet grinned, surprised - but still pleased - at the thought, even though his anus clenched fiercely. “Practice makes perfect, Smash.”

The ogre nodded, and started to turn, but suddenly stopped. “She not hate, it still a date,” he added, before knocking a small breadfruit tree over as he continued to tromp through the jungle. A couple of quacks waddled in from the brush and landed next to the fallen tree, happily nibbling on the now accessible loaves and giving terrible advice that no one could seriously consider.

Chet waited until the sound of the ogre’s crashing had faded before twisting around to examine is aching rump. The motion ground his still-pulsing dick into the dirt, causing the centaur to let out a sharp, tear-filled cry. When his vision cleared, he gritted his teeth and bent his human half over his equine body, stretching both hands out towards his rear.

His beautiful tail was a mess. It was matted with thick clumps of ogre cum, and Chet could tell just by looking that it was going to take him a long time to get it back to its former glory. Just thinking about it made his tail automatically twitch, and Chet winced, the motion reminding him of the gaping hole that his anus must now be.

Gingerly, he stretched out to his fullest, just barely managing to touch his fingertips to the sore, swollen ring nestled between his hind legs. It clenched at the contact, sending a wave of electricity up his spine, but the centaur kept on.

To his surprise, there was no gaping hole. His anus was the same as ever. Wet, yes, and definitely bruised, but while it gave more easily than it probably should have when he pressed his fingers to it, it certainly wasn’t the yawning chasm that his body was telling him it was.

Morbid curiosity made him dig his fingers in. The centaur gasped as they were sucked deep, making his whole body roil in surprise. He managed withstand the twisted pleasure long enough to shove the fingers of his other hand in as well, but no sooner had he forced half of them in when he found his legs straightening on instinct alone, his fingers covered in ogre cum and his insides on fire.

Chet was noisily sucking hard breaths through his nose, wiping his hands off on his hips and stomping all four hooves in an effort to burn off the energy his fingers had unleashed, when he realized: he was still aroused.

The feel of his cock slapping against his underside stunned him. When he twisted down, the stallion was shocked to see his long shaft bobbing outside its sheath, occasionally smacking against his cum-streaked underside. His face paled. He’d just had the single most powerful sexual encounter of his life, and here his erection was rigid enough to tear through steel! Chet gasped as it, impossibly, swelled even further.

He had to do something. He had to find… find…

Find someone else to _fuck_.

The thought gave the centaur pause. Smash’s promise sent shivers down his spine and made his hooves dance, but the ogre wouldn’t be back till evening, at best, and the way his erection was forcing itself from its sheath told him that there was no way he could wait that long.

Chet frowned and gnawed his lip, his hooves stomping loudly as he turned about the glade. That ache, the urge he hadn’t been able to put words to this morning was back, only now he knew what it was. What he needed to satisfy that awful, desperate itch that made his hind end twitch. He needed… a thought popped into his head.

There was a big, horse-bodied sphinx guarding an oracle’s cave to the west. Chet visited him, from time to time, because he felt a little sorry for the guy. Sphinxes were loners by nature, but usually there was at least the occasional traveler, sometimes a hero or two, for conversation. As far as Chet knew, though, the oracle cave was so remote and so unknown that he was the only person to have even passed it in the last two years.

The sphinx had the forefront of a lion, and the hind-end of an enormous horse - nearly twice the size of a normal stallion - a set of powerful reptilian wings, and the leonine head of a human male. They were both young (relatively, in the sphinx’s case, a mere few hundred years), so their conversations almost inevitably turned towards sex, and whenever that happened, the sphinx’s gargantuan organ would slide out of its sheath, huge and wet and glistening in the light.

Chet’s breath caught in his throat. He’d seen the monstrous appendage, dangling as the sphinx moved about, enough times to know its exact proportions. The riddling monster was even bigger than Smash, hard, easily at least the full length and half again the width of a full-grown stallion.

Mouth watering, the centaur gingerly started west. Wet semen dripped down his haunches, and his rump ached with each step, but there was a subtle twinge of pleasure hidden at the center of the dull pain. He found himself reveling in it.

Whenever they’d parted, with the sphinx’s cock fully erect and leaking, the crossbreed would desperately beg Chet to send him some centaur fillies. Though the centaur had sometimes entertained the notion, he had always known it would never happen. No filly would risk the chance of siring a crossbreed, even one off of a creature as intelligent as a sphinx. The poor guy had always been forced to do without.

There had been an almost crazed glint in the sphinx’s leonine eyes the last time Chet had visited him. He’d noticed the crossbreed staring at his rump, on occasion, but hadn’t even thought about why until now.

And now…

How much convincing would it take to get the sphinx to perform coitus with him? Would he be reticent? Unwilling? More eager than Smash? What would the desperate monster do if the centaur showed up with a load of ogre semen leaking from his swollen anus? Or, better yet, what would he do if Chet simply marched into his cave, turned, and lifted his tail?

He thought of the swollen, angry erection that had always surged out of its sheath at the slightest mention of sex. He thought of the sheer force the massive monster could put behind each thrust. He thought of the way the sphinx’s saliva had dripped from its mouth, mirroring the drip from its cock, as its eyes burned a hole in his rear the last time he’d left.

The centaur’s heart nearly leapt to his throat, and then he started to gallop.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Notes:
> 
> Ogres are known for their stupidity and brawn, and speak only in rhyme.  
> Centaur are known for their handsome posteriors and great intelligence, as well as disdain for human acumen.  
> I tried to include some good old groan-worthy Xanthian puns!
> 
> Imported from AFF.net because Xanth fandom is tiny~


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